


Her Children, They Were Brave

by shessocold



Series: I Told I'd Always Love You, I Always Did, I Always Will [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family, Family Issues, Fantasizing, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Grimmauld Place, Internal Monologue, Old-Fashioned, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Society, Regret, Sad, Self-Sacrifice, Sibling Love, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shessocold/pseuds/shessocold
Summary: Regulus is not afraid.





	Her Children, They Were Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Regulus Black is not afraid. In the early morning of the last day of his life, as he lies in bed and watches the pale sun rise over the roofs of Grimmauld Place, the boy never wavers from his resolution: the Dark Lord's plan must be thwarted, and death is an inevitable part of what must be done, and the only person suitable for the task is him, Regulus – therefore, he will have to die.

Regulus is not afraid, then, but he can't help the wistfulness that washes over him as he contemplates what he's leaving behind – his family, his friends. School. Quidditch. 

_Witches._

It's spring, and the air is sweet with the smell of flowers. It makes Regulus think of picnics, of brightly coloured robes of silk and muslin, of pretty girls sitting on the grass, their heads together, telling each other amusing stories while they watch the boys play. Regulus has never had a proper girlfriend – he's kissed a few, of course, if only because Slytherin has won two Quidditch cups during his time at school and he's the Seeker, but he's never gone beyond that, and now he finds that he regrets it deeply. 

_I always thought there would be time,_ he thinks, and in his mind he's mourning the life he'd assumed he would have: a nice witch, someone from a suitable family, to court, to go dancing with, to kiss goodnight while the house-elves pretend not to see. An afternoon out in the countryside, lunch in a secluded spot by a river somewhere, and a spontaneous gesture on the witch's part – something playful, to make Regulus understand that they're in it together, that she wants him just as much as he wants her – maybe a bared breast, or her skirt lifted just so – and a marriage proposal, gleefully accepted. 

The wedding, the reception, the honeymoon abroad – _sex_ , finally. Unlimited, uninterrupted time alone, just Regulus and his new wife, for them to learn what they like and what it feels like to truly share your life with someone else. Back in England, a house of their own – or, if his wife doesn't mind, a nice suite of rooms in Grimmauld Place, so that Mother does not have to be alone. Children, in time, at least a couple: a boy, of course, to further the family name, and a little girl, vivacious and smart, to cherish (to spoil, even). Evenings in the drawing room, Regulus reading aloud, like Father used to when he and Sirius were small, doing all the different voices, conjuring tiny versions of the dragons and the monsters from the fairytales with a flick of his wand, the children shrieking in terror and delight, their mother looking on in loving amusement. 

A Christmas feast in the dining room, everyone looking their best, Mother sitting at the head of the table, presiding over a roomful of relatives – Regulus wife's brothers and sisters, if she has them, Narcissa and Lucius, Bellatrix and her husband, Andromeda, maybe, even, with her little girl. Presents, and songs, and jokes, and puddings, and decorations, and a huge tree in the hall, and then one year - unexpected, unannounced, like a Christmas miracle - _Sirius_. 

Regulus rubs his eyes, his daydream ruined, his mood spoiled completely. Sirius would sooner set fire to himself than come back and apologize, Mother is just as stubborn, and there's nothing Regulus or anyone else could say or do that would make them see reason. What this fact means, of course, is that once Regulus is gone... he doesn't want to think about it, or he'll lose his determination. He loves his mother dearly. He loves his brother, reckless and cruel as he's always been. His only real wish, he finds, in the imminence of his demise, is that what is left of his family could come together again, and the house be once more full of laughter and play and children's voices. 

“Master?” 

Regulus turns around, startled. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Kreacher walking in. Kreacher bows deeply in apology, a breakfast tray hovering just to his left. 

“Kreacher has brought Master his tea.” 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Regulus says, sitting up, and he gives the faithful old elf a reassuring smile. 

“Will Master join Mistress for breakfast in the dining room?” 

“Yes, certainly,” says Regulus, trying very hard not to think of what he's about to inflict on his mother. “But in the meanwhile, could you bring me a piece of parchment and a quill, please? I have a note to write.”

**Author's Note:**

> Regulus is such a tragic character and I love him almost as much as I love his brother.
> 
> (On a lighter note, I amuse myself with the idea that pureblood families and their "nice" children would hold themselves to ridiculous antiquate social standards while around them normal people were busy having, you know, a sexual revolution) (joke's on them).


End file.
